


No Pain, No Gain

by Madame_Beret



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mates, Tattoos, a bit angsty, fears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 01:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/831321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Beret/pseuds/Madame_Beret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles have been talking about officially becoming mates. And Stiles wants to show Derek how he feels about being with Derek forever. Permanently. With something just as permanent. He just has to deal with his fear of needles and pain first</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Pain, No Gain

**Author's Note:**

>  Thanks to [Katie](../users/the_overlord) for her handholding 
> 
> I've recently fallen a bit in love with tattoos and then after Monday's episode I was inspired to write this.  
> I don't think there are any spoilers for 3.1 but if I'm wrong let me know!
> 
> This is my first Teen Wolf fic so I'm not really 100% happy with it. And I think it gets cracky in places because I lost the thread of the plot for a bit. Sorry

Stiles was coming to the end of his summer vacation before returning Berkley to complete his final year of psychology and he was spending as much of his final week as he could at his boyfriend’s loft. Although given how much of Stiles’ stuff had migrated over it was fast becoming _their_ loft.  
But before he left Beacon Hills until Thanksgiving, Stiles had something he wanted to do. But it was something he had to discuss with Derek first, something he really hoped Derek would maybe even help him with.

 They had finally got together two years ago after dancing around their feelings for even longer. Being with Stiles had calmed Derek’s wolf and helped his human side to open up and let people in properly for the first time since the fire. So it wasn’t unusual for them to be curled around each other on the sofa (a soft cream leather one now rather than the velvety blue one Derek had once dragged off the street. All thanks to Stiles, of course) watching a superhero film that Derek wasn’t paying any attention to. He was content to just sit with his almost-mate’s heartbeat under his palms.  
All summer they’d talked about taking the next step in their supernatural relationship and officially becoming mates. Derek’s wolf was starting to get restless about it and he was ready to mate properly. But for Stiles getting werewolf married for life was a serious commitment which required some serious thinking. Wolves mate for life and that is a fucking long time. That’s the rationale he had given Derek for not giving him an answer.

But he had made a decision. And he had decided to make a grand gesture of his answer because Stiles could too be romantic whatever Scott said. He just didn’t know if he would be able to get Derek on board with said gesture because Stiles didn’t think he would be able to go through with it without Derek’s help. Stiles didn’t like pain. He’d become acutely aware of this fact since meeting Derek and fighting various supernatural shit. He just wasn’t sure of the best way to tell his grumpy ass boyfriend without freaking him out more than necessary.

“Calm down,” Derek mumbled against his the freckles on his neck.

“What?” Stiles jerked around in his Sourwolf’s lap. “I am calm.”

“I can hear your heartbeat going crazy and you leg is bouncing around as if it’s trying to break away.” He could _feel_ the nervous energy rolling off his skin in waves. His wolf didn’t like it.

Stiles cocked his head, almost a subconscious gesture of submission to his alpha.

“Oh that,” he waved a hand in dismissal and almost broke his hand on Derek’s nose in the process, “I just forgot to take my meds this morning.”

Lie.

“Stiles do you forget that I can hear your heart. I _know_ when you’re lying. I also know that skipping your meds doesn’t make you heart start beating the can-can.”

Clearly Stiles was having a positive effect on Derek’s sense of humour. It seemed to actually be developing one. Ordinarily Stiles would have made a witty remark about it. But for once he was actually going to bite the bullet (not literally because he had once done that to yank one out of Derek’s arm and he did not have an appreciation for the taste of gunpowder and gun shot residue) and talk to Derek without five minutes of classic Stiles rambling.

“What would you think if I got a tattoo?”

“I think you’ve got a fear of needles.”

Obviously.

“Hey now Sourwolf, if you and Scot can handle blow torch tattoos I think I can deal with a few pin pricks.”  
Also a lie. Derek heard his heartbeat stutter and pick up. But Stiles had pretty much already made his mind up about this. The appointment he had made at the tattoo parlour for that evening would suggest he had very much made his mind up about this. The design he’d sketched onto a scrap of paper was burning a hole in his pocket. He was going to go through with it regardless of what Derek thought. Derek huffed a grumpy sigh.

“Scott _passed out_ from that tattoo.”

“Dude, it was with a blow torch! He didn’t pass out from his normal tattoo experience.”

“You did.”  
“Hey now! Who have you been talking to? Did Scott tell you that? Because he’s a little shit if he did. It was probably because I didn’t eat enough that day or something. I am not so weak minded that I would pass out at someone _else_ getting a tattoo.”

“Stiles. Shut up.”

Just to reinforce his words, Derek closed the gap between their faces and placed a gentle kiss at the corner of Stiles’ lips. He was clearly worried about something and it brought out Derek’s protective side; the need to protect his mate (because he liked calling Stiles his mate, even if it was only in his head. For now.) He brought a hand up to run across the hair at the back of Stiles’ head. It was longer than it had been when he was at high school so the soft threads slipped through Derek’s strong fingers. Stiles nuzzled into the feeling. Now who was the animal? Derek had to hold in a laugh at that, if he wanted to get this issue out of Stiles it wouldn’t do to start laughing at him. Instead he deepened the kiss and pushed his tongue gently into the brunette’s mouth. Distraction was always a good tactic when it came to his boyfriend. Unfortunately it was also a tactic Stiles was familiar with. He pushed Derek away and scowled at him.

“Don’t think you can distract me with your tongue and perfectly formed lips. I am getting a tattoo and I was hoping you would come with me and use your voodoo magic to syphon the pain away.”

He looked up with his best puppy dog (ha) eyes.

“No.”

Derek stood up, forcing Stiles to roll off his lap, and took their snack bowls into the kitchen. The credits of the forgotten movie were playing.  
Stiles had made it perfectly clear over the past few weeks that he had a problem with the ‘for life’ bit of becoming Derek’s mate. So how could he be so happy to mark his skin with ink in an equally permanent way. Clearly Stiles was willing to plan for forever, he just didn’t want Derek in that forever. He’d always known Stiles was too good for him, that he was only staying around until someone better came along. But Derek had deluded himself into thinking Stiles loved and cared for him as much as he did Stiles. The truth was a bitter pill to follow after two years of happiness. He could feel his wolf snapping just beneath his skin. It needed to run or howl or do something to release all the feelings that had suddenly come to the surface. When it came to mates werewolves had a hard time controlling their emotions; they felt everything more clearly than a human would. It was almost a physical pain for Derek to suddenly acknowledge that Stiles didn’t want to be his mate. That would leave him without a mate forever, as Derek certainly wouldn’t ever be able to accept anyone else as his mate, and thus he would never feel like a complete werewolf.  
He scrubbed violently at the bowls in the sink, sending suds flying up into the air. He picked out the smaller, green bowl to wash the bubbles off except he gripped it a bit too tightly causing it to shatter, shards of ceramic cutting his fingers. He watched as rivulets of blood ran down his fingers and into the water before the small cuts started to stich themselves up. Slender arms wrapped around his torso and a chin propped itself on his shoulder.

“Are you okay dude because – holy shit is that blood? What the fuck did you do? Does it hurt?”

“No Stiles,” he sighed, “because I’m a different species to you.”

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe Stiles just wasn’t as down with all the supernatural stuff as he always made out. Maybe what he really wanted was a normal marriage to a pretty blonde girl who would pop out 2.4 kids and look after the house with the white picket fence while Stiles did a boring desk job and brought home steaks for dinner. Because steaks with curly fries was Stiles’ favourite.

“Fine. See that’s the kind of voodoo magic I was hoping you could share with me. You know, this might make me want to be your mate more; if there are perks for me.” He waggled his eyebrows and bumped his hip against Derek’s playfully, but the werewolf just started into the depths of the soapy water.

“Hey now. Do you have a problem with me getting a tattoo? A serious problem, because if it’s the protective side of your wolf worried about me being in pain that’s just stupid. One, you can help with that. And two it’s not as painful as some of the stuff I went though with the alpha pack and I’m still alive after that.”

Derek closed his eyes and forced a deep breath out of his nose. He did not need to be reminded of Stiles’ suffering at the hands of those bastards. That and the fire were two things he still had nightmares about.

“The pain isn’t even the problem, not really. It’s the needle thing. It reminds me of when my mum was in hospital and there were needles sticking out of her everywhere, like a freaking pin cushion, and they just made her look even more fragile. And that’s not how I like to remember her. And tattoo parlours always smell faintly of disinfectant, which just makes it worse because that’s how hospitals smell too. But I am still going to do this. Because this tattoo means a lot to me, it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while and not just a whim. So unless you have a legit pack related reason why I shouldn’t do this, I will be at that tattoo parlour at 5 o’clock this evening with or without you.”

It felt like a moment to flounce out dramatically and hope Derek would walk out of the setting sun and into the tattoo parlour at 5 o’clock where he would grab Stiles, dip him and kiss him deeply, all in a very romantic way.

But that wouldn’t be happening for three reasons:

1\. The sun doesn’t set at 5pm in the summer

2\. Derek didn’t even know where Stiles was getting his tattoo, because he hadn’t told him.

3\. Stiles was determined to talk this out reasonably.

Not to mention ‘romantic’ wasn’t a word in Derek’s regular vocabulary.

“It’s forever Stiles.”  
“I know,” he winked. Derek wasn’t sure if that was meant to mean something or if he was just messing with him.  
“You’ll be eighty, with wrinkled flesh and there will still be a doodle from your youth on your body.”  
“Woah. Dude,” Stiles actually put his hands up in a defensive stance. “I don’t plan on ever being wrinkly because Lydia _will_ create a potion allowing me to age with the grace I deserve and have earned from saving your wolfy ass so often. Besides, I’m not going to get a pointless doodle; what I’ve designed is meaningful and I know I will always want it on my fine fine body.”  
Derek changed tactic,  
“What if I just don’t want you to mar you perfect skin with black lines?”  
“I think that is very flattering sugarpie, but it’s a small tattoo. I promise it won’t even cover any of the moles you seem to so enjoy mapping out with your tongue.”

He winked again, Derek saw it reflected in the window above the sink. He turned around in the circle Stiles’ arms had created around his torso, starring blankly into the space over his shoulder. He was still battling though his emotions and didn’t think he could stand to look his boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) in the eye. Stiles tightened his arms and Derek subconsciously leaned into the embrace.

“I think I should go,” his voice was softer now as he pressed a gentle kiss to Derek’s lower jaw. “It’s obvious we’re not going to get anywhere here and I don’t want to fight with you right before I go back to Berkley. It’s my body and my mind is made up on this but it would mean a hell of a lot to me if you could make it to the tattoo parlour on Second Street at five.”

He pressed a final sloppy kiss to Derek’s neck before unwinding his arms and heading for the door.

Apparently Stiles would be holding out for the romantic meeting at sunset.

* * *

Derek checked the time on his phone for the fifth time in an hour. 4:47. He had gone back and forwards in his mind as to whether or not he should show up for the stupid ritual that was permanently marking Stiles’ skin. Ultimately he had decided that despite his complete dislike of the idea and the horrible feelings it had brought about, he refused to give up any time he had to spend with Stiles. Even if he was going to refuse to be his mate and probably break up with him Derek didn’t have it in him to not spend as much time as he could with the only person who could ever make his wolf feel calm. And the only person he had ever wanted to give his heart to: had wanted to be mated to. Besides, as much as Stiles may want the stupid tattoo Derek knew he would be secretly terrified facing hundreds of needles stabbing into his skin alone. Scott was on holiday with Allison in France so he couldn’t even turn to him for support. His protective side (which Derek sometimes hated because it could get him into trouble) knew that Stiles would feel so much better if he had a hand to hold. And squeeze. So it was with reluctance that Derek threw his worn leather jacket on and ran through the evening sun to Second Street.

He was less than impressed with the sight that greeted him there. A flashing neon sign proclaimed that he was at _Pins & Needles_. Trust Stiles to find even a tattoo parlour with an ironic name.

“You actually came.”  
Derek spun round (in a manly fashion) to face Stiles who was looking at him in awe. “I didn’t think you’d actually show up for this. I thought I have to wait until I could take the bandage off to show you my sexy new ink.”  
“Let’s no get carried away. There’s no guarantee it’ll be sexy,” he deadpanned. That was a little bit of a lie; Derek had always found tattoos to be sexy as long as they were in moderation and especially if there was an intimate meaning to the tattoo. If he was being honest, the prospect of seeing Stiles topless as he was getting inked had helped Derek in deciding to turn up.

“I love you.”

Stiles completely disregarded Derek’s last comment and continued to look up at him with that same lovesick expression. He certainly didn’t look like someone who was planning to break his boyfriend’s heart sometime in the not too distant future. All these mixed emotions were too much to take in. He tried to sniff out the emotions rolling off Stiles but all he could get was the smell of nerves related to the upcoming tattooing. It made Derek infinitely grateful that he had turned up, if just to ease Stiles’ mind a bit.  
He grabbed Stiles’ hand and squeezed in what he hoped was a reassuring way,  
“Shall we go in then?”

Inside Derek started to feel uneasy. A hulking man covered in tattoos was wiping down a black leather chair. Derek could smell disinfectant (that was somewhat reassuring at least) and hints of other people’s blood wafting over from used wipes in the bin. He suddenly wasn’t so sure he wanted to watch this. The smell was starting to make him feel nauseous, what help would he be to Stiles if he were the one to actually pass out?  
The man looked up at the sound of a bell tinkling as the door opened (seriously, a bell! What was this place?)  
“Stiles?”  
Even his voice sounded hulking and imposing. Derek felt his hands clench into fists without even thinking about it.  
“Bad dog, down boy,” Stiles muttered under his voice so only the werewolf would hear him.   
“Yeah, that’s me,” he voiced out loud.  
The tattoo artist, who hadn’t introduced himself, gave Stiles a once over before gesturing wordlessly to the leather chair. Stiles took a seat and gave Derek a shaky smile, the first outward sign that he was nervous. Derek smiled back, although it came out more like a grimace and Stiles had to hold back an eye roll.  
“I was hoping I could get this right over my heart,” he handed the artist a small piece of paper that looked as though it had been folded and refolded multiple times. Derek felt his own heart clench, way for Stiles to dig the knife in deeper; there was no place more intimate for a tattoo than over your heart.  
The guy glanced at the paper and nodded.

“All in black?”

He turned towards his ink gun. Stiles followed his movements and gulped.

“Uh, yeah?” It came out as more of a question. “I mean, black’s always in, right?” He laughed nervously at his own joke. Derek saw right through it; he always joked when he felt nervous.

“Hey,” he took Stiles’ cheek in his palm and turned his head to face him, “don’t look over there. Just look at me, ok. And you can squeeze my hand as hard as you like,” he squeezed to remind Stiles he was still holding it, “I promise it won’t break.”  
Stiles let out a genuine laugh at that one.

“Thanks. Pull up a chair and settle in. But no peeking. You don’t get to see it before it’s done and you certainly don’t get to see it before I do. So stay up here by my head and eyes in front mister.”

The hulking guy (as Stiles had named him) turned back with a stencil he had whipped up in no time.  
“Shirt off.”  
“That’s how I like it: direct and straight to the point with no foreplay.”  
Hulking Guy raised one eyebrow (tattooed on), looked between Derek and Stiles and shrugged.

“Ok, not down with the funny side of Stiles. Derek, you wanna help me with this stripping off malarkey?”

It was now Derek’s turn to raise an eyebrow but helped Stiles peel off his tshirt like a dutiful boyfriend. Stiles thanked him with a pat on the head, just like a real dog.

“Ooh, it’s cold.”  
Derek felt a shiver run through Stiles body and his flesh flare up with goose bumps at the sudden exposure combined with the nerves.

Hulking Guy rubbed an alcohol wipe over Stiles’ chest, which caused him to shiver again and Derek to wrinkle his nose up at the smell. He turned briefly to see the tattoo artist readying the ink gun.

“Ok, just keep looking at me and it’ll all be fine.”  
“And you’ll do your voodoo magic?”  
“And I’ll do my voodoo magic. I wore long sleeves for a reason Stiles.”  
He was impressed Derek had even thought that far ahead, he didn’t usually show much concern for keeping his magic werewolf powers hidden in public places.

The needle came down over Stiles’ chest to start the first downwards line of his design. He flinched. It felt like cat scratch on sunburn.  
“Ow fuck ow fuckitty fuck that hurts. Derek, dude, you have one job and you’re not doing it.”  
“Give me a bloody minute. I can’t just flick a switch here.”  
Stiles’ sass and wit had rubbed off on Derek over the years.

He felt Stiles squeeze his hand with surprising strength for a human, but Derek tried to ignore it in favour of focusing on drawing Stiles’ paid away. He could imagine the black lines running up his veins under the leather jacket and navy blue Henley (Stiles had helped him add colours to his wardrobe too).  
The pain didn’t seem to be Stiles’ only problem though because a few minutes later, despite Derek’s voodoo magic, he passed out probably just from the notion of having needles digging into his skin. Yet Derek felt compelled to continue drawing his pain away. It did make things easier though. Hulking Guy tutted once but the buzzing from the ink gun didn’t falter.

Derek was tempted to look, of course he was. He wanted to know what Stiles could commit to having on his chest forever when he couldn’t commit to Derek forever. But he had enough respect for his wannabe mate to hold out. Just.

From the sounds of the gun it sounded like it was all straight lines being drawn onto Stiles’ chest and Derek couldn’t for the life of him imagine what design that might be. The only thing he could picture was a square but he couldn’t see what kind of meaning that could have to Stiles. Or maybe a triangle. Maybe that each side represented Stiles and each of his parents, that’s the kind of odd yet sentimental thing he could imagine Stiles going for. He looked down at their fingers twined together, little half moon cresents in his hand from where Stiles' nails were digging in. He ran his thumb over his knuckles as he waited for this whole ordeal to be over with. He could smell Stiles blood, a coppery feeling in the back of his mouth, and it wasn't exactly a smell he felt comfortable with. He breathed through his mouth as much as he could.

 

“Done.” That was without a doubt the voice of The Great Tattooed Man (Derek could name people too). “You can try and wake him up.”  
Well look at that, he _did_ seem capable of full sentences. He wordlessly handed over a leaflet on caring for your new tattoo and ducked out of the room. Derek could hear him cleaning his tools. 

“Stiles. Stiles,” he tried again a bit louder but still no response.  
He let go of his hand and Stiles was hit by a wave of pain radiating from his chest like a slight burning which was more than enough to wake him up. He immediately looked down at his chest and smiled at what he saw.

“You can look.”

So Derek did.

It was indeed a series of straight lines about an inch high right over Stiles’ heart. They seemed to be symbols of some kind. The first reminded Derek of the gate that used to outside the Hale house, the next was an M and that didn’t make any sense to Derek, the third letter was an R made all of straight lines that could be part of a video game logo that Stiles liked for all he knew but if definitely looked stylised somehow, the penultimate symbol was a straight line down that could be an I, or an l or even a 1 and the final letter looked like a K with the top diagonal line missing.  
He looked up at Stiles’ face hoping it would give him some clue as to what the tattoo was supposed to mean. Stiles just looked back expectantly.

“Can you read it?”

_Read it?_ It was supposed to be a word? Only 2 of the marks looked like letters though. Unless it wasn’t English. Well it obviously wasn’t English. Derek looked again and suddenly he could see the word, almost as if he were translating it. It was Runes. It was usually Stiles or Lydia who did all the reading of runes so it took Derek a few seconds to work through each symbol individually to transliterate. If memory served the first symbol represented a ‘d’ sound and then there was the symbol for an ‘e’ sound then a ‘r’ sound and than an ‘i' and a ‘c’. D-E-R-I-C.

Derek.

Stiles had had Derek’s name tattooed on him. Right over his heart. In the most intimate and romantic location a tattoo could possibly be. Stiles had put himself through all that pain and anxiety to get Derek’s name drawn into his skin with ink. Forever. Permanently.

“Stiles,” he whispered in awe.

“No. No it says Derek, not Stiles.”

Derek scowled.

“I thought you were gearing up to break up with me.”

“What? Why would I do that? This may come as somewhat of a surprise given how grizzly you can be, especially in the mornings before coffee, but I do actually love you.”

“I know. Just, you hadn’t given me an answer about mating because you had to think about it because it was forever but then you were happy to get a tattoo forever so I thought that was just an excuse to delay hurting my feelings.” He trailed off and started to mumble as he realised how stupid he sounded.

“Oh Sourwolf, _my_ Sourwolf,” he wrapped his hands around the back of Derek’s neck and ran his fingers through the soft hair there. “This,” he nodded towards his chest, “is my answer. I wanted to make some big grand gesture so you knew how serious I was about this. I wanted to do something for you that would mean as much to me as mating does to you so you could see how committed I was in a human way. There was never any doubt in my mind when you asked me to be your mate it was just a case of waiting to find the best way to tell you. Do you have any idea how hard it has been to keep this from Scott because I knew he would blab straight to you because he cannot keep a secret to save his life bless him.”  
“So yes?”  
“Yes. Yes I will werewolf marry you and be your mate. Until death do us part. Forever. Permanently.”

Derek smiled and leaned down to lavish a kiss across Stiles new tattoo. He hissed.

“Fuck you Derek it still stings and I am not above passing out again.”  
Derek simply put his hand on Stiles arm, drawing away any pain, and leaned back over the tattoo of his name. On Stiles. Forever. A sign, a physical sign, that they belonged to each other and with each other as mates. Permanently.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sketch of Stiles' tattoo.
> 
>  
> 
> Bare in mind I write because I can't draw. I think it's Celtic Runes but I can't be certain.


End file.
